The Geneticist's Notebook
by A.G.M. Mendelssohn
Summary: An IBI agent, teamed up with a Viridian police officer, investigates the murder of a world renowned geneticist. Little do they know, this mystery will take them on an adventure far beyond the limits of nature...and metamorphosis. Installments postponed.
1. Prologue

Hello, hello. This is one of my first works to be posted on this site. Please read this story and review when you're done.

I (sadly) do not claim rights to any previously published material, logos, characters, slogans, or companies. They are Copyright to their respective owners, creators, or publishers. I claim ownership to this fiction work and this fiction work alone.

Now, let's get started with a nice little Prologue, shall we?

* * *

**THE GENETICIST'S NOTEBOOK **

**_By A.G.M. Mendelssohn, 2005, 2006_**

**Prologue**

**

* * *

**

_Third Person Point-of-View—9:43 P.M, Viridian DNA Research Laboratory_

It was incredible. Andrew Thomas Pine was morbidly amazed. Despite the millions of Pen that went into funding this corporation's security, the intruders were somehow able to get in here without a sound. They even managed to break into the inner sanctum of the facility, where the DNA researcher had been finishing up his night's work. "The capsules, if you please…" came a cool, crafty voice in the darkness. A Growlithe was at the figure's side, teeth bared and poised to attack like a viscous dog.

Pine mustered up his nerves as best as he could. "I—I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." From his swivel chair, he stealthily placed his left hand beneath his workstation, depressing a button that issued a silent alarm that would alert the local police force. He slowly moved his right hand to rest upon a hidden remote signal attached to beneath his chair. The emergency lock-down…if necessary. Activating the switch could very well cost him his life…and then all would be lost.

The cool male voice was now laced with annoyance. "Do not attempt to test me…I happen to know that you are in possession of some _very _valuable goods. DNA serum…a particular sequence type…IMG, perhaps?" he added with a slightly smug tone.

"I…I don't…" stuttered Pine. _How could he possibly know about IMG? _He thought. _Those experiments and reports were supposed to be confidential! Damn, this could ruin everything!_

"Th—there is no such DNA agent in this facility! You are wasting your time!" he stammered. He looked desperately around for a way of exit, but found, to his great dismay, that he was surrounded by no less than twenty persons. They were garbed in black, each with a Nidorino or Nidorina at their side, ready for the upcoming assault.

"As you can very well see, you have no hope in escape," stated the cool-voiced intruder. "Simply hand over the IMG capsules and be over it. Or suffer the consequences."

"I am telling you! There is no IMG! It does not exist!" bellowed the scientist, sweat beading at his forehead. His hazel eyes were wide in plight, more for the possibility of the experiment results falling into the wrong hands than his own well-being.

"Fool." The figure nodded curtly.

Approximately twenty Pokémon launched into attack. Pine, his hand still beneath the chair, instinctively pressed the switch.

A deafening ring echoed in the space. Bright red lights blasted from various walls of the lab. The attacking Pokémon, with their sensitive ears and eyes, immediately flinched. The exits of the facility were slowly being barred by steel reinforcements.

Pine leapt from his chair—not before grabbing the three miniscule DNA containers from the table's surface. He bolted for the stairs leading up to the ninth level. The lead intruder frantically yelled something muffled out by the noise, and then dashed as swiftly as possible after the fleeing researcher, his Growlithe close behind.

Pine glimpsed the perpetuators in pursuit, and with dismay, quickly scurried up the flights of stairs, all the way to the roof top square. Out of the door he went and to the edge of the laboratory's height. He couldn't hear any police sirens…he glanced at the space below. Nine stories down upon solid cement—there was nowhere to go.

He felt a searing burning scorch his left shoulder. The pursuing Growlithe had used Ember. Gripping his shoulder with contained agony, he turned ro find himself confronted by the leading pursuer, his followers storming out of the exit door. In the light of the rooftop lamps, Pine now glimpsed the lead's face. It was a youthful face…malice was gleaming in his sharp eyes—hazel, to match the researcher's own. His jet-black hair was straight and well kept. Yes…his face was vaguely familiar…NO!

Pine's eyes widened. Of all people! He could he…? _Damn it!_

With a knowing smile playing at the youth's lips, his Pokémon suddenly bounded for another attack. The Growlithe slammed full bodily into the scientist's chest, knocking the breath from his lungs and causing the capsules to dislodge from his grasp and land harmlessly on the floor. Pine stumbled backwards, tripping over the roof barrier. With a cry of anguish, the lead geneticist of DNA analysis plummeted towards the pavement below. As he fell, he distantly heard helicopters buzzing furiously above him…. _How could this happen...? _His last thoughts spiraled throughout his mind…_all is lost…all is lost…all is lost…_

_

* * *

_And there we are. Please review if you have the chance--any input will be useful. Will this story continue, or will it die right here and now? Please post your replies. 

- A.G.M. Mendelssohn


	2. The First Chapter

Greetings. I am happy to say that this story lives...for the time being. Each upcoming chapter will be presented in multiple points-of-view, and the details provided may make sense in future updates--the holes _will_ be filled.

Once again, please read and review once you are finished (that may not be for a while, seeing as this chapter covers roughly twenty pages in book-form). Your advice and comments are well-appreciated in this fanfic.

I claim no rights to any previously published material, including characters, places, logos, companies, concepts, and original ideas. They are Copyright to their respective owners, creators, and publishers. I claim ownership to this fanfiction work and this fanfiction work alone.

With my rights upheld, let's get this story moving, shall we?

* * *

**THE GENETICIST'S NOTEBOOK **

**_By A.G.M. Mendelssohn, 2005, 2006_**

**Chapter One **

_

* * *

_

_First Person Point-of-View—Approximately 42 minutes earlier, 9:01 P.M, Viridian Police Department_

I found it quite tedious. Who was the idiot who introduced forty-eight hour shifts to the police force? I wouldn't have. All I have basically done in the past thirty is sit, take delicate sits of highly-caffeinated coffee, stop various trainers for identification (which, as my superior informed me, had become much more necessary since the explosion at the Pokémon Center), and watch reruns of _Pokémon ER_ and _The Ninetales's Curse_. Quite the life, I must say...twice a week, fifty weeks a year, the same process.

I felt more sorry for my sister, though...she had to sit at a lonely outpost positioned at the outskirts of town. At least I got in some friendly chats with my colleagues. Even so, my sister and I...we were the only two members from the Jenny family that worked in Viridian City.

All the women in my family take on the exact same appearance. Same eyes, same hair, same structure...and the same uniform. Must have been some sort of dominant trait in our genetics—it has been so for twenty-one generations now...over seven hundred years. As a whole we are known as the Jennifer Police Department, though I find that title inaccurate. The family name was Jenny, _never_ Jennifer. I swear, had my family honor not been at stake, I would honestly sic my Growlithe on the next dunce who called me "Officer Jennifer." I'm really serious about that.

"JENNIFER!"

Ah, well. I probably wouldn't have, anyway.

I stood up. "Yes, sir?" said I, my customary salute at check.

Chief Yosemite Bluefield wasn't exactly the type of boss I had expected to have. He was somewhat short in stature, pudgy, balding, and had a temper that would have easily cooked several Chansey eggs in a matter of seconds. I would have never guessed this man had served fifteen years in the Kanto National Air Force. A person _that_ temperamental shouldn't be piloting planes...he would probably try to annihilate an entire city just to find a place to land (not that I'd say that to his face). All the same, he still has the license to check out any aircraft at will. Really lucky guy, considering that we have several hangars full of them.

Bluefield stood at his full height, even though it didn't make much of a difference—I was still more than a head taller than he was. "I am sending you on an assignment," he spoke curtly. "The call just came in. I want you to investigate a suspicious vehicle posted near the local Pokémon Center."

I blinked. Again with the Pokémon Center? First an explosion triggered by a high voltage Pikachu, now this. I really need to talk to the Executive Doctor in charge of that place. I wonder if anyone has a grudge to settle with her. Not likely, but still...

"You do remember the unfortunate...incident..." he swallowed, "that occurred there approximately two point five months ago. Luckily everyone, Pokémon included, escaped with only minor injuries. Of course, the Center's insurance went haywire... Anyway, I want no repeat of that. Your...identical sibling...has already caused enough trouble..."

I almost winced. My sister had left her post the evening the explosion occurred, without notification to her boss. That was an error worthy of detainment. Even though she did seem to have good intentions, something about helping out some irresponsible trainer with his Pokémon. Well, since she wasn't at her outpost, an aircraft (a hot air ballon, would you believe it?) managed to enter the city without detection. They, whoever _they_ were, launched an attack on the Center, probably looking for rare Pokémon to abduct. You see what I'm getting at?

Bluefield was now blunt. "So, I simply want you to check it out. No battling, if possible. As for potential arrests, you're on your own. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," I nodded, "right away, sir."

As he returned to his office, I tried to stifle a yawn. This was going to be a long night. Oh, well. What else was there to do? He couldn't send someone else; I was the only officer on duty...for the next six hours at least. Just about everyone else was on some case thirty or so miles south of the city—something about arson and some insane maniac. They would be back in the morning. I could almost imagine the front page of the _Viridian Paradise Times_: "Very Confused Lunatic Apprehended for Whisky." I didn't see why it needed the entire squad to investigate, although the call did sound urgent when Bluefield wrote it out on the report. So, as I said, there was no one else but me, my sister at her far-away outpost, and the boss. That's all.

I sleepily made my way to the land vehicle holding area. I found my specially designed officer motorcycle parked right at the garage's entrance. Taking one last swig of espresso, I hopped onto the cycle, activated the switch that opened the garage, released the stand, and sped off into the night. I purposely took the longest routes as possible. I'd have rather been on the road than stuck in a stuffy office all evening.

It was a bit difficult to keep my eyes on the road, though there wasn't too much traffic. I sped past a number if shops, somewhat wishing I had time to stop and have a look around. I would have gladly stopped at Fashion Retail ("Match the winning apparel of today, and become the greatly stylish of tomorrow!"), likely to appoint a redesign on the entire Jenny uniform, but I knew Bluefield would get on case for "defacing the noble vest." Poké Marts lined the streets, surprisingly full of customers, the clerks looking slightly frazzled…. Newly opened restaurants stood expectantly, waiting for the tide of hungry folks... Human supermarkets were bustling with people, especially that ancient-looking Wal-Mart (which, I recon, has been the longest surviving store in all history—What was it? Five or six thousand years of something like that?). Trinket and souvenir shops held cheap jewelry, easily broken mugs, and large repulsive sweaters that read "I visited the Evergreen Paradise!" Evergreen Paradise was an overstatement-true, it had been Viridian's nickname for as long as I could remember, but honestly...except for a small grove scattered throughout the park, there was hardly any trees left in the city's vicinity. Not since the mayor had a mental collapse.

There was a great deal of dwellings, some four stories high, others as low as an underground parking lot. I was amazed at the amount of hotshot trainers taking a nightly stroll up and down the street. I easily distinguished them as Pokémon trainers seeing that they each had a Pokédex in one hand and a Poké ball in another. Trash bins stood here and there underneath various lampposts, some knocked down by maybe a stray Pokémon—probably a Rattata or Raticate. Once, I glimpsed a Pokémon battle down an alley to my left. Two tough-looking trainers squaring off with their Pokémon—a Sandslash versus a Scyther, from the looks of it. I shook my head wearily. These days, there always had to be a brawl about something; believe me, from what I saw, it didn't look like a casual, friendly battle. Quite the opposite.

The park went by in a matter of minutes. No human beings seemed to be there, only a few wild Pokémon. Zubat hung in the trees, curled up and motionless. A Raichu stood on a brick wall nearby and proceeded to stare me down with daring eyes as I past, a few electric volts playing at its cheeks. Obviously it was looking for trouble—a trainer to confront, or maybe an intruder to punish. Who knows?

I had to swerve out of the way to avoid hitting a couple of crossing Sandshrew, which I found unusual considering that Sandshrew aren't native to the Viridian area. Some heartless trainer probably released them from their Poké containers and abandoned them. That must be it…there was a stunning rise in released Pokémon over the years, as I had checked out that particular report. Too many Pokémon, too useless to live—that's what some idiot said. Pokémon as couldn't battle well were dumped back into the wild by their trainers. Complete imbeciles. Pokémon aren't all about battling. I remember some great scientist and theologian who contributed great breakthroughs in the understanding of the Pokémon origins and human tolerance. Who was it…? What was her name…? Ah, Saint Anne of Lingua, noble and wise, dead over fourteen hundred years.

From what I remember, Saint Anne dedicated her life to the study of Pokémon and humanity. In her work, she determined that Pokémon are able to grasp complex feelings, somewhat have the capacity to make decisions based on mentality based on instinct, and feel the suffering that humanity feels. She was great with Pokémon language, too. She made several statements that most people today accept, deemed by scientists and other officials alike as the _Language Barrier Theory, _or something like that. Its contents had something to do about Pokémon being able to almost-perfectly cognize the human language—English, French, Spanish, Japanese, whatever—though humans cannot comprehend the Pokémon's language. Strange, indeed. I wonder why that is…? Also, she said something about Pokémon, though their speech is based upon their own species name, being able to understand each other with ease, sort of like many dialects of a universal language. Unfortunately, most of the time, it's a facial and gesture game for them to communicate with us.

You know what…I really want to figure out that mystery. It's an enigma wrapped in a Ditto, as people say. Perhaps I would get an answer; perhaps I would not. Depends if I meet a person brilliant enough to unravel such a puzzle….

The park was well behind me. The Pokémon Center loomed ahead. The architects did a great job in reconstruction—it looked exactly the same as it had just a few months ago. No one would have ever known it was a victim of violent demolition. That was just as well; we really didn't want people flocking from the city any more than we could handle. A bit like a crescent-shaped dome with various entrances and exits, its roof embedded with a medical Red Cross (an ancient, _ancient _symbol, as I heard) and a giant letter "P," I prepared myself for a dramatic opening. I would sail right over the slight front ridge and land with a screeching brake, right through the sliding doors and come to a stop right at reception's front desk. I knew my sis used to do that.

I pressed the accelerator a little bit more. Bracing for flight, my cycle and I leapt over the ridge and…DAMN! There was a vehicle parked below the ridge! I think my neck got a bit of a whiplash as I skidded across the roof of the van, showering sparks across the driveway. The cycle and I toppled right off the back and landed with a forceful thud onto the pavement, smoke and dust rising from the ground. There was a silence. Nurse Joy, owner of the Center, stared at me from reception through the doors' see-through glass, her mouth opened, with an immensely amazed look on her face. I issued an awkward laugh, getting off my motorcycle and rubbing the back of my neck. Even though humans are better structured for taking physical injury in this present day and age, it didn't stop my neck from becoming sore over the next week.

Now here's the part that bothered me. The back doors of the van suddenly opened, knocking over my cycle and almost myself. About five men garbed in black gave me a dirty look, including the driver at the wheel. They quickly got over that when they saw my status—a police authoritarian. Realizing my position, they quickly shut the door and rigged up the engine. They were obviously up to no good, trying to run from a cop. But unfortunately, it looked like they were going to get away. Well…then again…no, it didn't.

I snatched a Poké ball from my holster. An officer used to carry just guns at their waist, but soon the entire department found Pokémon partners much more effective. I enlarged the sphere, taking several steps back.

"Growlithe, go!"

The ball opened on its magnetic hinges and released Growlithe in a flash of white. There was the puppy Pokémon—about two-feet in height, an orange-black striped coat, and a loyal companion. It—he looked ready to do battle.

_"Growl…lithe!" _He growled ferociously.

"Growlithe," I called, "attack with your Flamethrower technique!"

_"Lith…LITHE!" _With a deep breath, his muzzle opened, and he exhaled a tremendous stream of fire, engulfing the entire van…and my motorcycle, too…. I envisioned for a split-second the scene where Bluefield popped my eardrums with his five-hundred-decibel voice, ranting on about the loss of police equipment.

The van skidded out of control. Smoldering with burnt metal, it swerved backwards into a lamppost, knocking the entire pole over. The driver was blocked from view—the windshield was covered in soot. But then the front doors opened, and a series of men began to leap from the wrecked van and flee into the night.

My eyes narrowed in determination. I pointed towards them. "Oh, no you don't—Growlithe, Take Down!"

_"Gruff," _barked Growlithe, bounding forward and knocking over the escaping men like pins in a bowling alley. They were out cold before they even knew what hit them.

I nodded. "Excellent work."

Growlithe returned to my side. Petting him on the crown, I restored him to his Poké ball. He disappeared in a beam of red light—an atomized tractor beam, to be exact—and into the container.

Nurse Joy came running out the door. She was wearing a pinkish skirt, a white nurse's gown and cap, and had red hair tied in such a way that would have normally made me quite ashamed of my old fashioned bun. She shook her head and surveyed the wreckage. "Nice landing. Your sister would be proud." She looked upon the crooks. "Are they contained?" she asked a bit nervously.

"Almost," said I, placing the fifth pair of handcuffs on the final escapee. That done, I referred to my Authoritarian Poké gear, pressing a signal button that would alert backup for the official arrest. Then it hit me...it would do no good. Bluefield and I were the only ones at the station. And my sister was on the other side of town, scanning the skies for hot-air balloons. There was no backup. Not until 2 or 3 AM at the earliest.

"Ah, ha..." I found it a bit embarrassing to ask. "You wouldn't happen to have a secure room where I can hold these cases until backup arrives in a few hours, would you?"

Joy's expression clouded over a bit. "A few hours?" She had a look of disbelief.

"Ah, ha-hah..." It was all I could get out. I felt myself turning slightly red, a very undignified behavior for a cop.

She sighed, gently rubbing her eyes. "Absolutely," she said. "We have plenty of rooms inside."

"Good, good, good." I quickly tried to brush off the explanation that I was the only available cop in town. One at a time, I transported the crooks to a ventilated storage room that Joy had opened, somewhere off the lobby. When I had placed the last stunned thug in the storage room, Joy closed the door-rather quickly-and locked it. We returned to the lobby.

"Now," I prompted, once again taking out my Poké gear, "tell me exactly what happened here, the events, the people—everything you know." I set my gear to the Scribble pad, ready to write it all down, my Press pen in hand.

Joy wearily sat down on the couch. She closed her eyes and rested her face in her left hand, gently brushing a lock of her reddish hair. At that moment, a chubby pink Pokémon with a miniature nurse's cap on its head, a Chansey, came slowly out of the Critical Care Room.

_"Chansey Sey Chan, Chan?"_ it—she asked, nervously looking around.

Joy looked up. "Don't worry, Chansey, they're gone now."

_"Sey..."_ She sighed in relief.

Nurse Joy now looked at me. "Yes the details..."

She inhaled deeply. "About thirty or so minutes ago, I was planning to shut down the center early, since we barely had any patients in our care. Chansey was at my side. As I was filing away some paperwork into the computer system, this van shows up. It parks in plain view from the entrance, where I could see it from front desk."

"Uh, huh," I said, scribbling text onto the computerized pad.

"That's when these two men in black come in and stand in front of me. They begin to threaten me, saying stuff about 'trashing the entire center,' and 'injuring the patients.'" She shuddered quite suddenly. "They told me to stay here at reception 'or else.' I had no choice but to oblige. They went back into the van with the back opened, watching me closely. I silently mouthed to Chansey to move back into the C.C. Unit behind us. I couldn't risk it any injury.

"The minutes slowly crept by. I was tempted to use the phone, since it was so close away, but I wouldn't dare. I was too afraid of what these men were capable of..." She paused.

With my pen in hand, I silently continued to write, my mind thinking deeply. _That's not usual,_ I thought. _Why would criminals make a threat for her to "stay here?" Stay here for what?_

I looked up. "Continue."

"Well, at about nine o'clock, all of the thugs came storming in. This time they had Poké balls in their hands. I began to get quite nervous at that moment. But instead of releasing their Pokémon, they ran around the back, apparently looking for something, ordering me again to stay here. While they were absent from the lobby I seized the opportunity to make the call to the police station. The Chief took my call, I think."

"So he did," I confirmed. That explained the phone call to Bluefield and my dispatch.

"They returned from the back the moment I replaced the receiver. It became terrifying in an instant. One of them glanced at the phone I had used, gazing at the screen...the caller history list. It clearly read '9-1-1' under the list of recent calls, a connection to the police station. For a second, I thought I was all over!"

"But...strange... He didn't do anything about it. He threatened me for the third time to 'stay here or else' and returned with the others to the van, shutting the door. Through the van's back windows and the Center's front doors I could see them, and they could see me. I was a hostage.

"Finally, after several agonizing minutes had past, you showed up. You skidded across the top of their van (whether it was an accident or not, I really don't want to know) and incinerated their vehicle with your Growlithe (obviously well trained, from what I saw). You put all of them in handcuffs and…that's it. That's all I have to tell." She shook her head and closed her eyes. "That's the second scariest thing I've experienced this year..."

"Hmm…" I murmured, saving up my notepad and closing the file. I was a bit troubled. The crooks did see the call history list and the location as well—Viridian Police Department. Why didn't they do something about it? They could have ran away, or wrecked havoc on the Center...but they didn't. It was almost as if they expecting my arrival... But that couldn't be...they seemed just as surprised to seeing me here as I was to seeing them. It made no sense, no sense whatsoever...

_"Chansey Chan, Sey!"_ Chansey suddenly stood upright, as if intently listening for something.

Joy stood up. "What is it, Chansey?" she asked worriedly.

_"Chansey...Sey, Sey CHAN!"_

Chansey, with a panicked expression, instantly bounded out the front doors. She was running swifter than most high-speed vehicles, going directly up the street, seemingly ignorant of any passing cars. There were a whole lot of screeches and car horns, complete with muffled swearing.

"Chansey!" cried Joy. "Come back!"

And that's when a piercing sound emitted in the distance.

Far in the distance...coming from the Viridian DNA Research Laboratory.

------------------------------

_9:45 P.M, Viridian Pokémon Center, Parking Lot_

"The Lab!"

Suddenly I was the one in a panic. That could never be could. A secure facility somehow gets broken into? That's a very, very bad circumstance, especially when you're one of the only two officers in town.

I stormed out of the Center, looking in the far distance. The lab was in its emergency lockdown, with the red flashes, booming alarms, and reinforcement doors. I had to get to that place, now! I looked around for my motorcycle and—oh, I forgot. It was disabled—burned…just like the van.

The Lab continued its ear-splitting display. And I could do nothing but watch.

I heard a sudden burst of an ignition to my right. I turned and found a rather beat-up Finite NVK sitting idly, smoking large amounts of exhaust. The engine sounded a bit like a very sick Koffing. And there, in the driver's seat was Joy, looking more like a professional racer than a Pokémon doctor.

She almost smiled at my shocked expression. "Always ready to do somewhere," she said, opening the passenger door. I got inside the dusty interior, nearly shutting the door on my foot. Joy was putting on a seatbelt. I thought it wise to dot he same. I had never seen Nurse Joy drive.

She slammed her foot on the accelerator.

You could only imagine the events to follow in the next six minutes. I'll leave it at this: If Nurse Joy hadn't been aiding me in investigation business, I would have likely charged her with the entire book of Traffic lawbreaking. That would include speeding (the most obvious one), illegally running through every single stoplight we came across, disrupting traffic (disrupting isn't even the right word to describe it), and, the pride of it all, sending several fancy limousines into some variously thick shrubbery while cutting through the park. I slumped low in my seat-Joy was concentrating on making a good explanation of Chansey's behavior. More so than her driving, I may add.

"It's very sensitive, you see," she stated, swerving out of the left lane to avoid a head-on collision with an SUV. "Chansey is able to sense pain and suffering from a great distance—human or Pokémon. It's one of its most useful natural abilities and instincts. That's what makes it such an excellent aide in Pokémon Centers and human hospitals." (I wondered if Chansey could feel my suffering right now: stuck in a dangerous speeding car with a driver who usually handled smaller, cuddlier things with doctor utensils.) Her eyes briefly watered. "It must be a bad situation. Chansey rarely goes out running in a panic. Something must have disturbed it terribly..." (All the same, I hoped nothing else terrible would happen...especially ones that would involve very fast moving vehicles crashing into something very solid.) Joy gripped the wheel even tighter now, an action that somehow didn't comfort me all that much.

A secure electric gate stood at the boundaries of the Lab. It was deactivated and opened. A presence suddenly came over me...I will never be able to explain it. For some reason, through the windshield, I looked skywards. What I saw were four or so helicopters flying directly overhead, passing each us in the opposite direction. I could faintly see a red star on the bottom of each of them. Their sounds were completely muffled by the alarm.

Joy gave a sudden gasp—her eyes went wide open. She stood on the brake like a diver on the diving board. With my neck still tilted upwards, I couldn't help but issue a slight moan of shock. The tires squealed to an abrupt halt. Smoke rose from the now busted engine. And up ahead, Chansey was there in the Lab's parking lot...standing over someone….

-------------------------------

_9:53 P.M, Viridian DNA Research Laboratory, Parking Lot_

I was never going to do that again—ride in a car with Joy as the driver. Getting out of the NVK, I felt quite weak on my feet and my insides were in complete nausea. Even my head was spinning…no, never again. That wasn't fun at all.

Once my head had cleared, I focused my attention on Chansey. I thought I had seen everything by now. Now I realize that I hadn't First, Joy is taken hostage by several thugs in black. Next, a break-in occurs at one of the most secure buildings in all of Viridian. Now this.

Chansey was stooped over a man in a white lab coat-a scientist, I guess. He had brown hair and a slim frame. His hazel eyes were vacant and lifeless-hie neck appeared to be broken. The Pokémon was nudging his arm, as if trying to catch the man's attention. From here, I could see that his shoulder was badly burned. I took another look at the man's face. I instantly realized a dilemma that made my ears throb—and it had nothing to do with the ear-piercing sirens.

"This is Dr. Andrew Pine...the key researcher to the entire lab…." I murmured. Nurse Joy came out of the NVK to have a look. She stopped short.

"Oh my…"

_"Chansey chan. Sey Chan Chansey?" _Chansey asked uncertainly, closely examining the corpse, either unaware or unwilling to accept that he was…well….

Nurse Joy walked up to the Pokémon. "I'm sorry, Chansey," she spoke heavily, sadly gazing upon Pine. "He's gone. There's nothing you can do…. Oh…Andrew…"

"Sey…" The Pokémon looked sorrowful.

This relation was closer than you may think. I knew that Joy had secretly admired Pine...in a love-struck sort of way. From what I knew, they hadn't been dating, but were considered more like a couple of good friends who met frequently. I also knew that Pine was the one who provided a full squad of trained Chansey, which he raised on his own, to almost every Pokémon Center throughout Kanto…so, obviously, just about every Chansey nurse nationwide took an affectionate liking towards him.

Donation of Chansey to a governmental building…that's one of the reasons why the DNA facility got a four million Pen grant from Viridian City (worth about $500,000 back in the twenty-first century). The other reason, the bigger one, was the fact that their genetic research was superlative and world-renowned. Pokémon DNS...human DNA...new DNA...new discoveries...it really didn't matter what they did—the fame kept rolling in.

If that wasn't good enough, the Kanto National Government provided an additional fifteen million Pen and worldwide recognition of the facility, especially its executive, Dr. Andrew Thomas Pine, to the entire media list. His fame had almost deemed the lab itself as a governmental building. He was right up there with the Works of Professor Oak and the House of McClancy. But, alas, that's all over now. After all, I knew some people had a case against him…

Joy looked up to the height of the building. "I honestly don't know how this could have happened…."

"I as well, but I definitely know it didn't happen by suicide." The moment I said that, I felt like I deserved the golden _World's Biggest Idiot award_. I instantly felt ashamed—actually, dim-witted would be a better term. Really, what a stupid thing to say!

Joy, who was kneeling by Pine's body, now stared at me. Even in her soft eyes, I could tell she was furious at my statement. "I know he's not the type of person who would," she spoke as calmly as humanly possible. "He had too much to live for. But, nevertheless, what makes you say that?"

I pointed. "The burn on his shoulder. Looks like an Ember attack. He was assaulted, then fell to his death from nine stories. I believe those helicopters I just saw were the intruders getting away…."

Joy lowered her head. She hated brutality of any kind. "I just…I don't…who would do this…?" She tried hard not to break down into tears.

I stood up, quite disheartened over this. "In reality, plenty of people. While he was loved by many for his discoveries, others sought to take the credit from him—his experiment results, in other words. They were interestingly valuable—and undisclosed to the public. Even I don't know what they contain! Anyway, I'm not going to be surprised if there is anything stolen from this building."

Joy was going to bawl any second. I just knew it. I quickly fell silent and busied myself with my Poké gear to avoid an awkward moment. As I checked through my device, I remembered that the thugs who threatened Joy were still back at the Pokémon Center, locked in the storage room. Well...there was nothing I could do about that now. What was important was for me to get some backup down to this murder site. That was going to be difficult— there was no one at base to call.

Actually, I take that back…

------------------------------

_9:59 P.M, Viridian DNA Research Laboratory, Parking Lot_

There was a sound of police sirens. Before I knew it, about six different police cruisers came from various directions full-speed into the Lab's premises. My sister on her motorcycle followed right behind. They all came to a stop in a semicircle around the site. The car at the front held Bluefield, looking none too happy. After getting out and shutting the door like an odd-shaped guillotine, he marched over to us with a thin line for a mouth. Other officers and fellow Lab employees (who were apparently a little more than distressed over the security activation) proceeded to scan the building and lot. Some investigators tried to approach us, but Bluefield held them back, promising to "rip that badge off your blue-clad chest if you do." That went for my identical sister as well. She shrugged, looking in my direction, and went to wait by her parked motorcycle.

Bluefield stoutly stood in front of us. I, with a very meek expression, was staring back at Bluefield, hoping he wouldn't blow his top. I doubt he would: Joy had her face buried into Pine's still chest, sobbing uncontrollably, her nurse's cap fallen off, with Chansey reassuringly rubbing her back with an occasional word _"Sey."_ My dad often told me that "no man likes to be uncompassionate to a lady in tears." An exact situation at hand, I had always made good use of that saying.

Bluefield gave me a look as if this entire incident was my fault. He crossed his arms, giving me only a deadly stare. Finally, he spoke. "Well?" he asked, impatient now. "Aren't you going to explain yourself?"

I quickly threw myself into respect. I began to salute him with a customary "yes, sir," when he suddenly cut me off.

"There's no time for the niceties," grumbled the Chief. "A simple explanation will do. I want the 'who,' the 'what,' and the 'when.' Nothing more."

I nodded in unsettled agreement. "Yes si—yes. I was investigating the Pokémon Center as you told me so. I found some thugs insides, and I took care of them. The alarm rings a quarter to ten. My motorcycle was trashed, so I hitched a ride with Nurse Joy. We get here about five minutes later. We find him dead. The murderers escaped in helicopters."

He looked at me very sharply. "Describe these helicopters you speak of," he demanded.

I was a bit confused. "Sir...?"

"It helps in the investigation, now talk!"

I found Bluefield's nasty attitude most unnerving. My memory clogged up. "I...I don't know, sir. They were passing overhead in their escape. I can't really describe them…."

The Chief's eyes blazed angrily. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU CAN'T DESCRIBE THEM!" He shouted out his rage. Oh, why me? I get the Fire Spin of his broken temper. "_You couldn't have heard them at all, thanks to that BLASTED lockdown alarm!_ SO HOW'D THE—" I sneezed at that moment, so I thankfully missed a blurb of obscene vulgarity. "—DID YOU KNOW IT WAS CHOPPERS, IF YOU COULDN'T EVEN SEE THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE!" He was turning rather puce. Joy sobbed even louder; Chansey was still futilely trying to bring comfort.

"Well...I...couldn't see...ah...whoever," I was reduced to mumbles under my boss's intimidation, of which really wasn't necessary anyway. I scrambled my memory. "They were black...about four...or five of them." I tried to remember through Bluefield's rant. I think I may have started sweating. "A...red star...on the bottom of each...I think." Would I get suspended if I broke down and started crying like pitiable Joy? Maybe.

The Chief suddenly went quiet. "A red star," he repeated. "Is that right?"

I regained my composure and stood tall. Yes...I recall it clearly now. "That is correct, sir. A blood-red star." I braced myself for the explosion to come around again.

Strangely enough, it didn't come. Bluefield was eerily silent. I found that even more uncomfortable. His angry complexion hadn't changed, but now, when he spoke. His tone had.

"S...sir?" I gazed at him uncertainly. "Are you alright-?"

Chief Bluefield suddenly came back to life. "Yes, yes, yes," he snapped. "I'm fine. Just...go."

I blinked. Was this my boss at a loss of words? That was simply impossible. He always had something more important to say. More important than telling an employee to "just go."

"Go, sir?"

"Yes, go. I declare that your shift is over. Go home."

I just stared at the Chief. That's it? My shift is done? Oh. Well. I assume that's an incentive for spotting the murderer's escape vehicles. I saluted my boss with a "yes, sir" and started to make my way from the crime scene.

"Oh, Lieutenant Jennifer?" called Bluefield.

I halted and turned. "Yes, sir?" I asked, hoping for nothing dramatic.

He was speaking in a cool sound, completely unlike form his typical, boisterous self. "Go straight home. I don't want to see you again tonight, or I'll have your badge at stake. Oh, and well done with the murderer vehicle description." He gave me a curt nod. "Dismissed, and good evening."

I returned to nod. "Thank you, sir. And good evening to you, sir."

"Ah, and Jennifer?" he added.

"Yes, sir?"

"I will see you in the morning, to discuss the financial loss of some police transportation vehicles." I groaned. I was hoping he'd forget about the wrecked police bike. As if it were my fault, though it technically was.

Bluefield stalked away, muttering an undecipherable mix of "red star, symbols, and damn," and disappeared amongst a few police cruisers. Other cops took this as permission to investigate the fallen Dr. Pine. I persuaded Joy and Chansey to come wait by the ambulance, of which arrived during my fire talk with the Chief, while the investigators sorted everything out. All the while, she could do nothing but sniffle. I promised to visit her tomorrow, just to check in on how she was. Following that, I sent some fellow officers to pick up the contained thugs at the Center, commanding that they search their pockets for any identification or Pokémon in their possession.

I was just about to have a word with my sister about getting a ride home (you already know why) when there was a disturbance—or rather, uproar—at the Lab's front door. About a dozen scientists piled out of the entrance, each of them having a hysterically upset look on their face. They went straight for the police force, shouting out scattered drivel like "capsules, DNA, and worldwide disaster." Being easily interested in things like this, I decided to stick around and listen, keeping some distance back in case Bluefield caught sight of me still here. I'll leave this one to them...the scientists were in complete disarray.

"...Call the Kanto Intelligence Agency, or the IBI!" shouted one of them.

"Where's Chief Bluefield?" demanded another.

"This is devastating!" screamed a third. "A government-supported building is broken into, our lead researcher is dead, and worst of all, they run off with valuable specimens! Get the national force down here!"

A fourth was tearing his hair out. "These capsules mustn't fall into the wrong hands! If they do..."

"People, please!" A male officer whom I recognized as Nathan Williams tried to settle down the mob. "Back up, please, back up to the yellow tape! We are trying to do everything we can, given that we had just gotten here less than ten minutes ago. If you could please..."

"But the DNA...!"

"The specimens could be damage—"

"Call the IBI right now!"

_"Where is Bluefield?"_

Even seven backup officers had trouble keeping the crowd restrained. Williams looked flustered. "People. _People!_ If you would be kind enough to...!"

"Get someone down here!"

"We need someone who can understand our situation! Someone with genetics!"

"I still say, _call the IBI!"_

_"I need to speak to Bluefield!"_

"The DNA capsules!"

"This is an outrage!"

"People, we're going to have to use force if you won't cooperate—" began Williams.

"QUIET DOWN!" roared a voice, the loudest of all. "QUIET DOWN, OR I'LL HAVE YOU ALL LOCKED UP IN A CROWDED, SECURED CELL!" I shifted my gaze over to the left of the outbreak. Bluefield was jogging—how odd it was to see him jog—over to the front of the mob. All parties fell silent, not surprisingly. I took a few more steps back; I didn't want to take chances with the Chief right now.

The Police Head huffed like an angry Tauros. He waited a moment before speaking. "As you all know, it is very distressing to take witness to such a...tragic...incident. We are trying the best we can to close up this case as quickly as possible, but for now we need your cooperation. Creating a riot will not make our situation any better!"

"But this is a governmentally provided facility!"

"I still say we need national investigation!"

"Team Rocket could be behind it, for all we know!"

"QUIET!" shouted the portly Chief of police. He took a breath, straightening his tie and clearing his throat. "We will contact a higher authority...if necessary. In the meantime, I see no reason why you should be interfering with our investigation—"

"The key researcher in our entire facility is dead—!"

"He knew topics and understood results even we couldn't grasp—!"

"Our national government paid much money for our security—!"

"Not to mention being relieved of confidential data and results!"

A vein twitched in Bluefield's right temple. He was getting dangerously close to his limit. Yes, believe it or not, Bluefield has a limit. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. WE...will contact...a HIGHER AUTHORITY...if NECESSARY! Now move along, or I'll have the whole lot of you arrested!" No one moved; they merely stood with a wide-mouth look. Bluefield's eyes flashed wildly—he had snapped. "GET GOING! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU PEOPLE? GET GOING! _NOW!_ ROUSE, WILL YOU? _ROUSE, ROUSE, ROUSE!"_ He waved his hands about like the madman he was.

And immediately the crowd shrank away, none of the scientists looking back. Bluefield wiped his face with a silken handkerchief and gave a few more shouts to the poor officers who dared asked him if he was going to be all right. ("What a stupid question to ask! 'Am I going to be all right?' WELL, DO I LOOK ALL RIGHT TO YOU?") I decided to take my leave then, before I got into trouble again.

My sister patiently waited for me. "Well, sis." She gave me a taunting smile. _The_ taunting smile, the one that only _she _would give. "I hope that didn't go over too badly with the boss. Still have your badge?"

I didn't return the smile. "You should talk. Remember the Pokémon Center incident? Yeah, really. As if you never did anything wrong! And yes, I _still_ have my badge. What's more, I got let off my shift early."

"Goodie. Need a ride?"

"Funny you should mention that. I was just about to ask..."

"You came here in a civilian's car. Normally you'd be on your bike. I suppose it got wrecked."

"Oh, _very_ perceptive," I said rather sarcastically. "It was nice of Joy to give me a ride here. She probably wouldn't have if it were any place else but here. She loved Pine..."

"What, like the not-so-hidden Oak and Ketchum Scandal?" My sister grinned that one-of-a-kind grin.

"Doubt it. It was more of a 'good friends' relationship. Now, if you don't mind, shall we get out of here? Bluefield will flip if sees me still here. I'm surprised the entire squad got back earlier than expected..."

"It was nothing too serious. There was a fire inside a house, but from what Williams told me, the firefighters managed to put it out quickly. No injuries, either, and the force couldn't even find the drunk who started it. Quite a waste of police time, if you ask me..." She sighed, gesturing towards a little sidecar on her bike. "Hop in."

"I could have died on my way here, you know," I muttered, getting into the seat. "Eighty miles an hour down Main Street. Really. I'm amazed that I'm still alive."

"I'm more amazed that Bluefield didn't put you on suspension," my sister replied, releasing the kickstand and starting up the motor. "And he gives you the night off. Of all people."

"It wasn't even my problem! He make it look like I'm the cause of all this."

"Well, that's Bluefield for ya. Tries to throw the guilt on the first person he sees. The faster he closes a case, the better his ego."

I didn't get to answer to this, since we were already speeding down the street, onto the freeway, and down into my residential area, woe upon any poor creature that got in our way.

------------------------------

_10:35 P.M, Residence of the Narrator, Officer Jenny_

There we were—154 Morfic Avenue. My sister came to a screeching stop in front of my house. I quickly got out of the vehicle. Without much doubt, I liked my sister's driving just as much as I liked Joy's.

"So keep out of trouble then. Enjoy the evening while it lasts." She waved as she took off again, leaving a long trail of exhaust. I marched straight to my door, unlocked it, and stepped inside, hoping that I could at least get a decent night's rest before facing Bluefield in the morning.

I tossed my keys onto the kitchen counter before pulling out the Poké ball containing my Growlithe. Enlarging it, I released him from the container for the evening. I rarely kept my Pokémon inside their holders when at home.

_"Growlithe."_ He growled in an affectionate sort of way.

I stroked him on the head. "You did well tonight. I wouldn't have been able to stop those crooks without you."

He replied in a dignified manner, sitting straight as obedient as a trained Pokémon should be. I nodded to him approvingly. "And have yourself a good evening."

_"Gruff!"_ He parked himself in front of the main door. He generally chose that spot for his night's rest, mainly to keep a sensitive ear out for any intruder that might want to break in.

Best security guards ever, Growlithe. Many people spend thousands of Pen just to keep make sure thieves wouldn't ransack their house in the night. Fancy alarms, lights, police activators...really, it's not necessary. Just keeping a Growlithe in the house has the worth of maybe three alarms, a police activator, and a full security team--I'm serious. And besides, they make loyal friends with their trainers.

I made my way upstairs to my bedroom. Getting into my nightgown, I reflected upon the day's events, as well as the priorities I had to attend to in the morning.

Ah, I just remembered something. That riot with the scientists. I pondered the idea of calling up the IBI...it seemed like such a distressing occurrence. Team Rocket? Valuable DNA? World peril? Not to mention Andrew Pine's murder. And what about those thugs at the Pokémon Center...surely they had something to do with this...didn't they? Bluefield didn't seem all worried about it, only stressed out by the onslaught of dismayed civilians. He always wanted to give then impression that everything was under control, even if things really weren't. His reputation over the goodwill of the victims; that was the true Bluefield. Yeah, I should call up the national security in the morning. I felt morally obliged to do so. Bluefield likely wouldn't thank me on his hands and knees if I did, but whatever.

Pine was a world-renowned researcher...AND the facility was provided by the government. So, obviously the national investigation bureau would want to hear about it (assuming the media didn't inform them first--the sirens were loud enough to crack windows). Yes, that's what I'll do. Just in case Bluefield didn't bend his pride, I would call the national security first thing tomorrow morning. For the sake of Joy and her love to Pine. For the sake of humanity and all living things. Time to bring in the pros. Just in case...just in case...

Ah, well...I'll worry about that when the time comes. I got into bed, wishing for nothing more than a refreshing little sleep.

Unfortunately for me, that was exactly what I _wasn't_ going to get.

Unknown to me at the time, I was in for a rough night...

And I'm not just talking about bad dreams.

* * *

The first chapter...FINITE! Once again, please submit a review and/or comments if you get the chance. In addition, any ideas or advice you have are welcome while the plot is still young. 

- A.G.M. Mendelssohn


	3. The Second Chapter

I have returned with another installment. As you will quickly see, this story departs from the traditional norms of a mystery, as I reveal facts and motives from _both_ the protagonists and the antagonists. This is to keep the story from being bogged down with too many holes. Still, many puzzles are yet to be solved.

I claim no rights to any previously published material, including characters, themes, concepts, logos, companies, and trademarks. They are Copyright to their respective creators, owners, and publishers. I claim ownership to this fan-fiction work and this fan-fiction work alone, including any original characters and titles.

Now, back to the story. Please Read and Review if you have the chance.

* * *

**THE GENETICIST'S NOTEBOOK **

**_By A.G.M. Mendelssohn, 2005, 2006_**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

_Change of Point-of-View—11:23 P.M, Deep-wooded Viridian Forest_

What was the best adjective to describe the moment? Overjoyed? No, too ecstatic an emotion that very much ruined the atmosphere. Blissful? No, still too pinkish of a phrase. Satisfied? Perhaps, but something a little more than that. Content? Yes...that was it: "content."

"Content" was a fair word to capture my state of mind—content of a job well done, thank you very much. Not as much for the weather, I'm sorry to say, seeing as it was a bright, moonlit evening, absent of any single overcast. The stars twinkled upon a midnight sky, and even the city's lights couldn't flush away this perfectly clear night. Pity...pity... That left over a thousand opportunities to be seen, especially by someone more than an unwary passerby below, and if that happened, I daresay our plans could very well waste away to nothing but dusty failure. Ah, well. We were too far skywards anyway, and not even governmental radar could identify us now.

Taking my eyes from the overly lovely view, I set my sights back into the passenger compartment. I couldn't completely smother a half-amused, half-disgusted grimace. Here and there, in various padded seats, my lesser comrades sat in a rather undignified silence. One grunt had his cap drooped over his eyes, and he snored with a noise remarkably similar to a dying Phanpy. Another didn't even bother with the cap—he had his head tilted back, his eyes closed and asleep, with a trickle of saliva on the corner of his mouth. Another couple of dunces stared blankly at a wall, shuffling their feet in uncomfortable boredom, probably thinking of all the fancy things they would squander their money on. Horrible, horrible...possibly the worst display of our organization's protocol. But it is a small price to pay for hiring dumb hands and muscle—at least they never hesitated to obey an order. "Seize," I would say, and they would seize; "ransack," and they would ransack; "kill" and they would kill. In fact, if I were to command one of these fools to exit this helicopter without a parachute, he would probably jump without a second thought. Hard to believe what a man would do for any amount of Pen, those little coins for earthly comfort.

Happiness told by idiots, I must say—a kingdom full of fools. Deeply spawned by this understanding, I had always wished that a majority of humanity...would just vanish. Begone. All the morons of the world, the ones that clog up and serve as hindrances at the expense of the worthy. Trivial pursuits overrun their lives, not at all like the goals I hope to achieve. Better they as inhuman servants than blockages of progress and stability, if I were to have my way.

I rolled the miniature capsules between my right-hand fingers. IMG agent in my grasp. Confidential reports in safe hands. The recipe for success. Pity the old man had to go in the process, with that brilliant mind of his, but it was worth the sacrifice. Besides, Andrew lacked a worthy heart. There would be no place for such a ceaseless tyrant in our bounty.

I checked the time—_11:25_. By now, the city was well behind us, and the Viridian Forest rested below us like a blanket of eternal darkness, tinged with a hint of moonlight gray. Yet despite its vastness, it was never quite at peace. Untamed creatures roamed the woodland, looking for nourishment and territory, never satisfied, never ceasing, those nocturnal creatures that click and howl, fly and scurry. The trees brought shelter to them, and they resided in their many limbs and branches. Of course, throughout the centuries, the pines' and oaks' majestic size attracted greedy landowners to the trough, eager to make some quick money. Fortunately, the land was protected, not only by the Kanto Environmental Bureau, but also by the natural roughness and wildness of the soil. Paths and roots twisting the way and that way, it made the forest almost uninhabitable by human development. Which of course was very convenient, in our case.

I leaned over and tapped the pilot firmly on the shoulder.

"Yah?" He spun his head around and spoke in a repulsive tone, some sort of garlic on his breath. "What you want, boose? Me steering the chopper alright?"

I grimly stretched my lips. I was speaking to another idiot.

"How long it will be before we reach the base," I stated firmly, carefully phrasing my tone away from the interrogative voice. "That's what I want, and nothing more. So tell me, if you can."

"Uh..." The operator scratched his head with his left hand, his right hand still on the controls, mouth slightly opened as he thought about it. "I dunno, boose...'bout five minutes, methinks."

"Excellent," I completed, settling back into my seat. "Back to work with you, then. Land this vehicle with accuracy and precision, if you please, as I hope to meet with my Superior with all my bones intact."

The operator uttered the most clueless of expressions: "Huh?"

I puckered with a lemon-like grimace, my fingers in a steeple. "In terms an imbecile like yourself might understand: '_steer this chopper_.'"

"Right-o, boose!" He issued a God-awful grin that reminded me vaguely of a Steelix and the jack-o-lanterns I had carved in my youth. Seeing that I wasn't going to return what he thought was a warm smile, he returned to his steering with no further words.

I shook my head wearily, hoping my time to pass with these clowns would end with posthaste. I couldn't wait to see my own executive; he anxiously awaited my arrival. Obviously it had everything to do with my success on the evening, seeing as these IMG capsules were the key ingredients in changing the world. Competitors of my master have tried and failed—even we have met our own shortcomings in the Experiment. The Experiment proved to be a stubborn thing, as its inhabitants had minds of their own. Human minds...righteous...rebellious minds. We've made many sub-branches on this Experiment, applied many methods of treatment, but no matter how hard we tried, we could not remain in control. Millions upon millions of Pen lost in tongues of flame and smoke...literally. And not just because our experiments failed, but also because of my master's so-called nemesis.

_Him._

"The Flame Collar," as our organization has nicknamed him. For many years he has been an agony to our success and a thorn in our side. Labs burned, our men hunted down, plans foiled—I never joke—all because of _one man_. Well, theoretically one man. He was next in a family line that brought certain turmoil to us, leading all the way back to his great-grandfather. He had the tendency to show up when we least expected him, that annoying overgrown smut, to wreck havoc on our glorious proceedings. I swear the instant his location is revealed...I will see to his secure imprisonment—or assassination, if my boss grants me the favor.

A bump of turbulence rid me from my personal thoughts and revenges. I could feel the helicopter lowering into a slight clearing in the middle of the woods. I refocused my thoughts, feeling the capsules in my palm. This was it. Time to meet with my boss.

As the helicopter landed, I hastily swung open the door, gracefully leaping onto the grass-laden soil. A tiny desolate cabin nestled itself amongst several pines. A perfect place for a hideout. True, to the untrained eye it appeared to be a dusty old shack, but for the sake of our security, it had might as well been a lavish manor in Paradise.

I smiled a rare smile as the rest of the air vehicles landed around me. A half dozen grunts leapt from the passenger compartments before the helicopters had completely stabilized on the ground, successfully tripping over their own feet and landing in a crumpled heap on top of one another. My smile vanished like a Vulpix down its hole. Soon, soon...if success is on our side, all of these incompetent fools will no longer be necessary.

"Make sure you return these helicopters back to where they belong," I curtly instructed one of the less-dense soldiers. "There is no need for the government to be suspicious of their whereabouts." My gaze lingered on the red-star emblem for a moment as I said this, dismissing the grunt with a wave of my hand. He walked away without even a "yes, sir," that disrespectful wretch.

I somewhat moodily stalked over to the cabin's single wooden door as the helicopters lifted off again. I pulled it open—it creaked anciently as it allowed my entrance. I stepped inside its dusty interior. To anyone else, the inside consisted merely of a frayed carpet and a few pieces of furniture, each strung with cobwebs and coated thickly with dust. The walls were made of a combination of wood and stone, the fireplace emitting a cold aura in the shack. Overall, it was an uneasy atmosphere that loomed over the cabin...but not to me.

I squinted in the darkness, looking for something...looking...looking...there! A tiny red light shone dimly in an isolated corner of the room, clashing with the rest of the antique hovel. I approached the light, feeling around for a keypad attached to the wall. The hidden entrance to our headquarters waited quietly.

Soon finding the keypad, I quickly punched in my twenty-eight-digit access code, impatiently waiting for the computer to process my identification. After a moment's wait, the minute red light turned green; a click came forth, indicating that the door had unlocked.

I pushed upon the distinguished portion of wall, opening the door to reveal a dark passage and a set of metallic stairs leading down into the basement. Of course, _basement_ was an understatement. I watched my step as I felt my way through the unlit passage, closing the door behind me as I did. I treaded down the steps in the pitch-blackness, making my way below ground. Eventually, the passage began to lighten as I drew near its end, leading into the main portion of our base. I could hear a great mass of voices up ahead, growing louder as I advanced forward.

"Sir, Test 435 is failing to respond to Brand 009—"

"Try applying it through Method D...Method C may not be strong enough—"

"Has Valence returned yet? If we're going to develop a new line of Experiments—"

"Do not refer to him as 'Valence.' And no, he hasn't returned yet—"

"Sir, Test 489 has become unstable and unresponsive. Its brainwaves are rapidly diminishing—"

"Abort immediately. There are to be no imperfections—"

"The infused Meganium is dead. It failed to survive DNA extraction—"

"Collect a few samples of its DNA, anyway. Though we can't use it for our Experiments, its DNA may prove useful, nevertheless."

"When is this shift over?"

"It's over at twelve o'clock, now shut up and get back to work."

Ah, it seemed that our scientists were busy. They had better, seeing as I had personally paid each of them a hefty amount of Pen for their superlative work in the genetic sciences, as well as their secrecy. If any of them breathed so much as a word about our production to anyone outside the organization, I would see to their violent demise—not necessarily in death; I had never been too adverse in administering the (apparently) called "living damnation" upon anyone that I found appropriate.

Entering on a balcony overlooking the view, I was now inside the laboratory, Section HQR1. One of several laboratory sections, I should add. Over the last few months, our headquarters had become an extensive network of cables, oversized test tubes, and scientific workstations, stretching well over a two-mile radius beneath the Viridian Forest. Our electric power source was environmentally safe, private, and overall undetectable by anyone, especially by any select governmental groups. Not that our headquarters was our only lab, obviously, but it was our most developed and sophisticated. The other facilities were located in Cerulean, Celadon, Saffron, Lavender, downtown Viridian, and several various points in Johto. Anything that happened in those laboratories had to run approval through our main branch, under the rule of my Superior and I.

Our organization did not consist _entirely _of laboratories. Rather, our headquarters was more of a utopia for the worthy than a camp of servitude, as well as a refuge for our employees. Sections of our base were made up of bedding rooms, recreation sectors, lounges, dining halls, and several kitchens. My superior had constantly reminded me that the better the conditions for the workers, the better their performance on the job. Though I never said this to his face, I privately disagreed. Pain was a better inspiration than love and care, as I found out in my earlier years.

I proceeded directly to the boardroom, located in Section HQR2. Crawling past the numerous scientists busy mixing chemicals and running tests, others tapping away at their laptop computers, I approached the outside of the large office several Sections down.

I took a calming breath, my excitement rather out of control. I knocked on the door.

A moment's silence, then...

"I've been expecting you," came a deep voice from within."Enter."

The door opened a crack. I pushed it the rest of the way, stepping into the boardroom's atmosphere.

The boardroom was rather dim, the single light bulb flickering with dull light. Despite my generally bold nature, I wavered slightly at the room's deep tenebrosity. On one side of an oaken table sat a tall swivel chair and a figure nestled in its seat. Two private bodyguards stood at either side of him, arms folded and their faces clouded by shadows. I stood tall, in a sign of respect, for Don Giovanni sat before me with folded hands, expectantly waiting for my news of triumph, his face stern as if it were carved from stone.

"I have returned, sir. The trio of IMG capsules have been secured, as well as the reports of their creation." I firmly stated my lines without a single tremor in my voice. "In addition, Andrew Pine, the geneticist, is terminated from our enemy list—he is dead." I paused for a moment, waiting for Giovanni's reply.

Giovanni reserved his speech for a moment, perhaps reflecting on the evening's events. It was a rather uncomfortable silence, seeing as I was just standing there and not much else, facing my boss rather awkwardly. It was maybe a full minute before he spoke in a powerful, high-status voice, cutting the darkness a bit a like a sharp knife on Miltank butter.

"You were seen."

A big blow that I hadn't expected had hit my ears. Seen? Well, _seen_ in a sense that we were spotted by someone of law authority. With such a decay-fraught government in Kanto, a civilian witness wasn't going to get too many words to the police in a crime investigation. But _seen?_

"That cannot be, sir," I said with a quiet voice, not allowing Giovanni to see the sudden pallor in my tone. "We made every security measure possible to prevent such a scenario...aside from the weather, of course—"

"Yes, yes, I know," snapped Giovanni, a slight annoyance on his tongue. "But all the same, a Viridian police officer arrived in time to catch sight of our contact's air vehicles...a red-star..."

I shook my head. "How is that possible? We set every part of our plan to perfection—"

"Not the lock-down alarm. Try as you may to hide it, you know as well as I the lock-down alarm was not part of our plan. The silent alarm, as well, as my contact informs me..."

"Both were backed-up, set on a private line. We wouldn't have been able to inactivate them—"

"You _do_ know what this means, I assume?" Giovanni was apparently in no mood for explanations, so I decided it best to answer his questions without any weights upon them.

"There is the possibility that the government will interfere in this investigation." I found it strange that I was lowering my head, the success of the evening apparently evaporated. "The IBI may be contacted."

Giovanni inclined his head slightly, which I assumed to be a nod. "The government and the media is not what I am concerned about, as they already twist stories better than I can. It is the IBI what I am worried about, and the potential alarm to them through the authoritarian witness. After all, only certain police officials have the IBI's private phone line—and this one, quite unfortunately for us, does. It may have been only your escape vehicles...but if they are traced to our contact..." He paused briefly.

"Then he can be traced to us," I completed somewhat solemnly, "and if he is traced to us, then the IBI could come knocking on our door. But—"

"No member of the IBI is going to accurately understand our motives of thieving the IMG capsules," said my Superior, taking care to cut me off once more. "If anything, they will pass us off as a unit of Pen-hoarding thieves, wanting the DNA for our own publication and monetary greed. However, it all depends on _who_ they dispatch for investigation—from what I heard, I believe this Viridian officer will pay them a call in due time—and it is a fair possibility they will send..." He paused again, allowing me to fill in the blanks.

I nodded, choking with the words slowly and painfully. "_Him_. The Flame Collar...and he already knows too much about us. A tip-off from this witness and the potential dual-intervention of both could prove devastating for our underground security." Though I knew I was a favorite of Giovanni and therefore needn't fear getting smothered by his typical rage, it didn't stop me from bracing myself for vocal impact.

"Hmm.…" Giovanni hummed a barely audible murmur. "Devastating, perhaps. But maybe this could turn out to be a blessing in a Dragonite's stomach. The lock-down alarm blasted out most of the helicopters' movements, so there was only one significant witness, thank God. She may have told her story to the Viridian Chief, Yosemite Bluefield, but he won't do anything, for his 'ego's' sake. Anyway, he'll look _very_ professional if _he_ personally catches and convicts the murderer without any help from higher authority. And seeing his wife is Kanto's only High Court Justice...useful, useful..." He mused with his words around his mouth, pondering the situation. I failed to see how "useful" the circumstances actually were; all I could see was a hellish blaze set upon our not-too-distant future.

But then: "We shall find a scapegoat—a decoy for the murder and the theft. Perhaps even 'incorporate' him with our little organization." Amusement hung on Giovanni's voice for a half-second, but it rapidly disappeared as he continued. "But for everything to work, we'll need to be rid of all witnesses...and any likely dispatches from the IBI's bureau. We cannot terminate our contact…yet. He is still too important a piece of our plan to let him go. But for everyone else, death is a fickle but inefficient way to do it, as we saw with...ah..._Andrew._" He emphasized the last word in a way that made my blood briefly flush in a bitter stream. I hated that man so much, that depraved and empty heart—but alas, revenge flows sweet. He was now dead; he cannot come forth from his grave.

Giovanni interrupted my thoughts. "Which brings us to the more important matter—the IMG." He lifted his right hand in an open-palm fashion, as if expectantly waiting to receive something.

I snapped back to life. "Yes, sir, the IMG. All three capsules are here. I'm sure you've received the e-mailed paperwork in advance..." I gestured to one of the guards, who promptly strode around the table. Gently taking the capsules from my hand, the bodyguard returned to Giovanni's side, passing the precious DNA agent over to him. Giovanni clicked the small metal containers together as if weighing the worth of a few pieces of gold. He glanced at the freshly printed reports on the table (at least, I _think_ he glanced at them), and remained in his passive state. Then he said a few words that threw my confidence right off:

"Is this it?"

"Sir?" asked I, uncertain what he meant.

"Are you sure this is all you've brought back for me?"

"Yes...sir." Confusion knotted in my right temple. The capsules were in his hand, the documents were in his sight, so what else was he looking for? "That was all we picked up—that was all we had time for, since we were under a restricted schedule...not to mention the lock-down alarm..."

"Hmph…another inconvenience for the list. Ah, well, we'll address that problem when we get there…." I decided not to pursue the topic, despite the fact I hadn't the slightest clue what he was talking about.

"Now, to business." He plowed on without a second thought. "This IMG perfects our plans in the Experiment; what previously failed will no longer be a hindrance. For with this IMG, we can mix it with our own past serums to create the ultimate prize…the Deteriorative-Invasive Metamorphic Gene—DIMG. Derived from the geneticist's diligent work…the great tool for completing our goals…our ambitions to be quenched." An upwelling of an uncharacteristic dreaminess crept into Giovanni's voice. "The free-minded Hybrids will be hereby obsolete—we will no longer need to use the complicated HMG, with its many faults and flaws…all thanks to Pine, too." Smugness tinged with genuine happiness briefly lit my Superior's features. I could almost vow upon my soul I saw him smile…such was a nice feeling for me. It made any of my unpleasantness vanish, all my work worth the while, seeing my Superior happy. Like a father I never had…

"But we will need a specimen," continued Giovanni, straightening his suit jacket. "A test subject: Test 001. And perchance—" he allowed his thoughts to cross him as he spoke, "—we can capture two Pidgeys with one sphere." With this, he pulled a miniature pad of paper towards him. Scribbling hastily upon it with a fountain pen, he tore a piece of paper from the pad and slipped it across the boardroom table. Picking it up, I squinted at the information on the scrap. Quickly memorizing the message's contents, I ripped the scrap into tiny pieces.

"So, you want me to complete this written operation?" I confirmed.

"Tonight, if possible," said Giovanni, relatively light-hearted compared to his other moods.

"With pleasure, sir," I replied, with upmost sincerity. Who cares if it was the dead of night, and I was being sent to run an errand at such an obscure hour? I would be glad to do anything for my boss. After all, he is the best Superior I've ever had….

"Good fortune be upon you, Valence," he called as I felt around for the brass doorknob.

"And to you, sir." I found the knob and stepped outside the office, paying Giovanni one last glance before shutting the door.

Another fair task for the evening. _The hunt, _as I had always called it. Now, to find a secure method of transportation….

"SKRE-E-E…!"

There was a metallic siren in the distance. My broad smile fell right off my face. Midnight; the third and final shift was over. Now I had to face a crowd of scientists and employees returning to their nighttime quarters, and maybe worse, face a Head Scientist for the end-of-day report.

Frowning tartly, I, with a quick stride, strolled down several back corridors and hallways, cutting through a dining room (some grunts were passed out from the Gloomesque brandy, stooped over chairs like ragdolls), several recreation rooms (a scientist or two were watching _The Tonight Show with Erika Amaryllis _on a large television--a program I rather detested due to our failure to merge several aboveground companies with Scent-sation Inc.), and a couple of kitchens (chefs were cleaning up dishes from the pre-prepared _creme brûlée Miltanke_). Marking shortcuts through several now-empty laboratories, the lights dimming automatically for the six-hour rest period, I made my way to the closest Transportation Holding Area, several sectors west. What I needed was a rugged vehicle that didn't attract too much attention, and could survive Viridian Forest's vicious landscape.

Eventually, I spotted the familiar steel-enforced doors. Approaching quickly, I reached one hand to the entrance keypad.

"Ah, Valence! There you are!"

I recognized the voice to be Coleridge Milton, Third Executive Chairman of our entire network. (I was the First Executive Chairman, Military Commander in Chief, Private Agent, and Superior Favorite, so do not let his title belittle me in any way.) His job, as well as several other peoples' jobs, was to oversee each laboratory sector of our immediate headquarters. I sighed—so close to departure, yet so far…

I turned around to face the thick-haired man. "Seeing as the shift has ended, I see no reason why you shouldn't refer to me by my first name, so how may I help you, Coleridge?"

The Executive pushed his thin-lens specs back on the bridge of his nose. "To wait for a moment while I clarify the report of the day's events, of course. Seeing as you _are_ Giovanni's Favorite—"

"Kindly refer to him as your _Superior_ in the future, Coleridge, as he yields complete power over every Team Rocket affair, as well as its associates. Disrespect is a felony is our organization, as you very well know…." Well, that's that. I assumed you knew that our organization was named Team Rocket. I don't exactly understand _how _you would know the name of our network, but I shan't trouble you too much about it. Anyway…

"I shall, Valence, I shall, my apologies—nothing wrong with calling you by your first name, right—? Well, nevertheless, I have a list of several bullets to address with you before sending them to the Record-keeping and Financial Branches in the morning…"

I clicked my tongue rather impatiently. "Make it quick, Coleridge. I have an important task to fulfill in a limited time span. Something related to the Revamp, thank you very much, so spit the details to me before I demote you down to Grunt."

Coleridge smiled; he knew what I said was an empty threat. He knew too much about our plans to be reset as a mere Rocket grunt. He would be holding his position until he otherwise retired or died. "Well, well…a cranky mood, are you, Valence? Very well, I shall be brief." He cleared his throat and began to read the minutes.

"A Meganium in Section HQR5 died while trying to fuse it with—"

"You at least salvaged its DNA?" I said with an added grin of maybe half an inch.

Coleridge's eyebrows rose. "Quite correct. Should I send some to your private laboratory for testing?"

I considered it for a moment. My lab was in Section HQR0, also known as the "Executive's Haven." Only special officials in Team Rocket were granted access to such a haven, as it had the largest and comfortable living conditions within its space—not unlike a middle school legend called the "Teacher's Lounge," except it was a reality. Only my Superior and all his specially selected Executives were allowed entrance, I being one of them, and the private laboratory was used for any half-baked plans and potential future Experiments. The very first place where the Hybrid epidemic was established…

"I suppose so," I finally said. "Perhaps I'll need the DNA for later experimentation. Next?"

"Several Hybrids had to be abort—"

"Skip over that," I interrupted, not really interested in hearing graphic details of a Test's body implosion. "Next?"

"We still cannot locate the three hundred missing Hybrids and Clones escaped over the last twenty years—"

"A long report. You've kept that search on for too long already. Next?"

"That's just about it. Oh, and well done on that Pine Operation. The media is already tilling stories around and around—I don't even think they released the correct name of the geneticist, seeing as he didn't bear—"

"If that's it, Coleridge," I spoke tersely now, cutting him off, "I will now be leaving on a private operation. Get a good night's rest, and be ready for the assembly meeting in the morning."

The Executive checked his notes. "Ah, one more thing." He tapped his pen upon the detail at the bottom of his clipboard. "The Hybrid we had been watching for you, Valence, Test 099, is growing restless and still will not speak. His health is suffering tremendously through the injections; personally, I don't think he will survive…"

"Cure him of that. He has information we badly want. It'll be quite unfortunate if he dies, and even with our newfound IMG serum, it will make our plans somewhat more complicated to achieve, since he knows the location of—"

"Yes, yes, we'll work on that right away." Coleridge lowered the clipboard, scribbling a note on the amassed papers. "And that just about finishes up the report. I've got nothing else to tell you, except wishing you some good luck on your late-night mission. So, good luck." He strode away with a lunatic's grin and a cheery wave.

"Luck is for the unprepared," I grumbled, tapping twenty-eight digits into the keypad. Like before, the door processed my identification information for a moment before unlocking. Pushing the door open, I entered the vehicle holding area.

A great collection of jeeps, limousines, trucks, and common civilian cars met my sight, spread around the room in several rows like a typical company warehouse. Let's see…which vehicle would I use for this task? A jeep? No, too obvious and identifiable by a police authoritarian. A truck? No, too large and unstable for the Viridian Forest. A revamped limousine? Hmm… the deep treads and brakes to survive any road condition? The extra room and blacked-out windows? The extra carrying space for any additional passengers?

To myself I nodded—perfect.

* * *

This chapter may need some reconstruction, seeing as much of the formatting had been lost when I uploaded this story to the site. Check for future updates, as I will probably need to re-edit this chapter. Again, please take the time to post a review if you have the chance, as well as any information or suggestions you may have. That is all...for now. 

- A.G.M. Mendelssohn


	4. The Third Chapter

Here it is: an early update with another chapter installment. This chapter and the next are both critical, since I am about to splay most of the story's holes and questions within their contents. Yes, even the littlest details are important, since they could come back much later in the story.

This installment's disclaimer is identical to the previous chapter. I claim ownership to this fan-fiction work and this fan-fiction work alone.

Now, tally on and read. Please submit a review once you have finished; suggestions are still welcome.

_

* * *

_

**THE GENETICIST'S NOTEBOOK**

**_By A.G.M. Mendelssohn, 2005, 2006_**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

_Change of Point-of-View—2:23 A.M, Residence of the Narrator_

I'll be perfectly honest with you—I've had better nights. I don't know if it was because of the anxiety that loomed over my chest or the bad combination of caffeine and spacial nausea earned by riding several vehicles at dangerous speeds, but I can tell you this much: sleep didn't come easily for me on this particular evening. Normally, I would just hop onto the mattress, crawl underneath the comforter, and I would be out in less than two minutes. On this evening, however, I rocked back and forth beneath my bed sheets, unable to find a comfortable spot upon which I could welcome what my mother had always called "Clefairy-land slumber." My breathing was shallow and labored, and my forehead was thick with sweat—it was as if someone had turned the thermostat way up before I went to bed. Even the abnormal silence of the city streets couldn't lull me to a peaceful rest—quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. It made me feel quite alone, more vulnerable to some unknown enemy hiding in the nearby shadows…and of course it didn't help ease the stress that I felt at the moment. Scattered thoughts swirled around my head, and indefinable voices whispered nonstop in my ears…

_Nobody likes to be uncompassionate to a lady in tears…always remember that, Jenny…_

_Welcome to the Viridian Police Department…I am happy to see you join us today…_

_The Lunar Theory remains today the most controversial topic of scientific study…_

_Has the IBI taken care of this Frederick Becket? Is Redhill the new executive…?_

_I'm sorry, Lieutenant Jennifer…your father was killed in a riot in Celadon…_

_The capsules mustn't fall into the wrong hands…and if they do…!_

_Where is Chief Bluefield? Call the IBI, immediately…!_

_Damn forty-eight-hour shifts…_

_Where am I?_

My thoughts refocused in a heartbeat, and my visuals were slightly blurred, skewed by some sort of light in the distance. A few blinks of my eyelids told me I was in a strange place—a place that was most certainly _not_ my bedroom. I quickly sat up in my bed…actually, not my bed, but a bench, upright and rigid and made out of some sort of stone. I nervously glanced at the space around me. I was sitting against the wall of a large circular room…everything made of the same granite that I sat on. It somewhat reminded me of those ancient temples I had frequently seen on television documentaries, with the massive pillars, torches, floors, and the high-arched ceiling. It was hazy and surreal, and the only source of light was upon a small pedestal resting in the center of the room, glowing with bright dynamic.

_Is this a dream? It must be…_

Odd…as I squinted towards the light, the anxiety that had previously throbbed through my mind seemed to…melt. Vanish. The glow was subtle, but it was not an eerie sort of light. It was more like the welcoming aura felt by a burning fireplace, a warming feeling that soothed away the troubles of life…a peaceful sight. I breathed a calming breath. I was safe—but not for long.

A figure stood near the pedestal of light, garbed in a monk's robe, and stooping over slightly, as if in reverence. Hands clasped as if in prayer, the figure approached the pedestal, unhurried yet seemingly eager in a quiet anticipation. But this quiet anticipation was one of a foreboding sense…evil intentions lingered near. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. This monk was up to no good.

Soon reaching the source of the light, I saw the cloaked individual raise his right hand. Muttering undistinguishable words under his breath, he lowered his hand…and the light was gone. It was quenched quickly and violently, like a candle. A sigh disappointment welled up within my chest, and all my anxieties came rushing back. As darkness closed in, a scream of anguish bellowed forth…I shut my eyes, turning my head from the sight. For a while I kept them closed, unwilling to stare upon the terrible darkness that reigned all around, the wailing plaguing my ears. It wasn't until the tortured cries began to fade that I thought it safe to open my eyes…

The dream had changed. I was no longer in the temple. Instead, I was staring at a small, round table, delicately set with a white cloth. There were several vases, prettily decorated with different colors, the insides holding flowers of many varieties, several lupines, roses, and other types. A crystal bowl rested in the center of the table, sparkling slightly by a ray of light shining through it. As serene this may sound, what was _in _the bowl wasn't nearly as placid. In fact, it pretty much ruined the entire sight.

Within the bowl laid a tiny Cyndaquil, curled up and deathly silent, its mouth slightly open. A silver knife was lodged into its head, the flowing trickle of blood refusing to ebb, filling and staining the crystal bowl with a rusty red…. I held my stomach and tore my eyes from the horrific scene, instead looking towards the sky.

My eyes met the face of the moon. There were no other stars in the sky, just the single nighttime orb, shining a pale glow that sent shivers into my spine. The moon's eyes stared upon the earth with a sad and craving gaze, a mournful smile upon its inhabitants. It was detached and lonely, and its lips had an air of a passionate secret. A secret it so badly wished to tell…but could not, for fear of a violent demise… Shadows loomed on the world below, and a Mew flew by the moon, throwing it a glance of haughtiness and smug pride, as if it were happy of the moon's painful and desirous anguish. The moon's secret involved the catlike creature, and the Pokémon was more than glad to keep it hidden. For if the moon ventured too close to the world, even to whisper the truth it retained, the earth would not live to see another day—destruction would befall upon the land, for the moon would come to stunning crash, an apocalyptic impact…

The Mew floated away into the distance, leaving the moon by itself in its silent lament. I watched this peculiar vision in awed interest, thrown by the realistic sadness painted on the moon's face…yet all a dream? What could this possibly mean…?

It took a moment to realize that I was not alone—there was something nearby, watching me as I had watched the moon. I returned my gaze to the table with the dead Cyndaquil…but it had gone. A Vulpix was there instead, sitting on its haunches, staring casually at me with curious eyes, the grayish moonlight upon its reddish fur. Each of its tails at rest, the little fox stared at me and nothing else, examining me closely as if I were the most interesting thing the world had to offer (of course, everyoneknows _that_ isn't true). It cocked its head wryly, studying me at every angle, the presence of a human apparently a rare and previously unknown occurrence.

I shook my head, wearily rubbing my eyes. When I looked upon the Vulpix again, it had gone away, a Meganium in its place. It was not staring at me as the fox had, but it was examining something that rested at its feet, a solemn expression on its face. The flower-like pedals around its neck drooped in a wilted state, and the antennae on its head were bent into a broken position. The creature overall looked like an aging plant about to die back into the ground, surrendering to a heavy and morbid death. Wondering what it was that made the Pokémon so somber, look so old, I peered closely at the object…

It…it was an officer's cap, crumpled in a heap…how strange. _Unusual, _I thought. _Highly unusual…_

A rush of wings filled the night air. The Meganium looked up, and with a panicked yet silent squeal, leapt back the way it came, into the forest and out of sight. I, however, turned to see what had made such a sound. I gaped at what I saw—another Pokémon. Mystical and dragon-like, wings beating a majestic rhythm, I bore into the eyes of a massive Dragonite. Not a ferocious face, either. It had a friendly sort of character on its snout, and it greeted me with a happy smile—a tad creepy, I may add. It sustained a humble bow in my direction, as if allowing me to climb upon its back. I looked around uneasily, wondering how much more of this dream world I would have to encounter, and climbed onto the dragon's back. At once, it took flight into the sky, gracefully cutting through the silent space. It soared over the earth that slept below, the sad and secret moon overhead, above the clouds and rain. It was an odd experience—quietness all around, yet the flight felt so…real—beyond a dreamlike state. I could almost feel the wind in my hair, the biting coolness of the dark air as we past over the still forest.

Eventually, the Dragonite began to sweep downwards, swooping low into the thick trees of the woodland. It soon came to a stop at a small clearing, bending forward once more so I could disembark. I climbed off the dragon, and immediately it departed into the air without another glance.

I raised my hand slightly; I didn't want it to go, to leave me here alone in this forest. But it was too late, for the Dragonite had already gone.

A slight rustling to the left caught my sight. Nestled amongst the bases of the trees, the Meganium and Vulpix had returned. They paid me no attention, for they seemed to be conversing over a serious a matter, as if the whole world depended on the outcome of their discussion. The Vulpix's muzzle uttered words I could not hear; the Meganium replied in an equally muted sound. I began to grow frustrated at my lack of hear, straining to listen to words that I knew wouldn't come.

Quite abrasively and unexpectedly, a horrible screech dug into my ears. I wrapped my arms around my head…and when I looked again…the Vulpix and Meganium were no more—they laid lifelessly on their sides, a vacant expression on their faces. I swallowed the urge to cry out and instead tried to approach the corpses…but something stopped me.

The ground had become unstable…I was rooted fast to the soil. The earth seemed to have taken on a substance like mud, or quicksand. I issued a scream…I was sinking fast into the loamy vein, the world consuming my body as it had to many others…Terror gripped at my heart as I breathed my last…

But no…the sinking had stopped. A hand of some sort had halted my progress into the earth. I felt myself being pulled out from the adhesive trap, slowly being torn away from the world that would have been my downfall….

The hands set me back onto to the stable land. Grasping my chest, I looked up to mutter some sort of gratitude to my rescuer…

A Typhlosion stood before me, gazing into the sky with quiet eyes.

I followed its stare to the heavens—the moon, as pale and sad as it had always been.

Strange…it appeared to be closer that I had initially thought it to be…oh, no….

Could it be? Was the moon…?

Falling…coming closer and closer to the earth.

It would kill us all…

Terror returned to my throat as I shielded my eyes, bracing for the devastating impact…

But it had gone…the whole dream world had gone. I was alone once more, darkness all around…

I was back in my bed, safe beneath the covers; the dream faded to a mesh of blurs…. My eyes opened, and I stared with owlish comprehension at the ceiling, sweating profusely, my pulse settling back to its natural pace.

_Is it over?_

Despite the fact my neck was sore and my spine felt like it was twisted to unnatural proportions, I sat up from where I laid, wincing from the stiff discomfort. I kneaded my eyes wearily, taking slow and careful breaths. When my heartbeat had returned to normal, I pulled myself out of the bed, unable to return back to sleep. I paced around the room for awhile, thinking.

A Dragonite…a Vulpix…a Meganium…the moon…. Thoughts bounced around my head. What was this all about? I hadn't had a nightmare like this since I was a little girl, growing up in Cerulean City. It was rather disturbing, the images that used to creep across my mind's eye. They appeared to be serene for one moment, and then, with a blink of an eye, it was a vision of impending doom. Well, at least my mother and father was alive back then, to bring me comfort after thesenightmares had settled…

Fresh air blew softly in through my open window, and it made me feel a bit better. _There're just dreams, _I told myself. _Meaningless visions. They cannot hurt you. It'll be best if you just try to forget about them..._

Sliding on a bathrobe and a pair of Azumarill slippers—a birthday present from my sister—I opened my bedroom door and made my way downstairs to the kitchen, subconsciously tapping the walls as I climbed down the stairway. I threw up many thoughts to distract myself: I silently congratulated myself on the wise investment for this house; it only cost a half million Pen for the fireproof lining, so I would never have to worry about waking up to a nasty billow of smoke, ash, and flame. The redesigned flooring and waterproof furniture and appliances came pretty cheap as well, or so my tax agent told me. Obviously I had treated myself with the Platinum Pyrite 4000 wall-screen television, as well as the leather-bound sofa and the carpet imported from eastern Orre. Not that I could go crazy with my expenditures, of course, since my salary as an officer failed to cover all my daily finances. After all, I still had several loans to pay off to the Corporation of National Finances, and they've recently taken to knocking on my door for a good old-fashioned audit.

As I stepped onto the linoleum of the kitchen, Growlithe, who was lying down by the main entrance, perked up with a look of interest, surprised to see his trainer up so early in the morning.

"_Growlth?" _He questioned concernedly.

"It's all right." I reassured him. "I'm fine. I just didn't get a very good night's rest, that's all."

"_Lithe." _Evidently worried, he stood up from his relaxed position and followed me into the kitchen.

I clicked the nearby light switch, the reliable solar energy efficiently filling the room. Opening a cupboard, I plucked a jar of coffee from a shelf. _The ancient phenomenon of remedial comfort, _I thought, pouring the whole lot into the instant coffeemaker.

Tossing the can away in a recycle bin, I picked up yesterday's newspaper that was folded on the cherry-wood table, hoping to find something to distract my mind from my recent night terror.

The headlines of the _Viridian Paradise Times_ emblazed across the top of the paper: "Prime Minister Nero Criticizes Johto President Tartuffe." Bah, again with Nero and Tartuffe? I dropped the paper back onto the table. A little rift between the two officials didn't really matter anyway; the Kanto, Johto, and Orange Isle regions had become an unbreakable alliance ever since the infamous and bloody Rocket Empirical War. If the history books are accurate, the three regions joined to overthrow a certain tyranny that threatened a great portion of the world. This tyranny was known as the Rocket Empire, a powerful nation that had captured and enslaved many surrounding regions for well over six hundred years. Apparently, those were some dark days, as technology and social development fell into a slump, kind of like the so-called Dark Ages of the Old Timeline. Anyway, the people of the Kanto, Johto, and Orange Isles gathered together a great number of troops and powerful Pokémon. They united and overtook the Empire's excruciating armies, and Emperor Stern found himself forced to resign his authority. From that moment forward, those three regions were known as "The Trio of Celebi," since their brave actions had basically reversed the times of tyrannical captivity, freeing half of the world as we know it. Nowadays, though the government decays and politicians become corrupted, I highly doubt that the people of Kanto, Johto, and the Orange Isles will break away from a millennium of social unity—Regional Pokémon Tournaments and Contests are a big sign of that.

Of course, despite the fall of the Empire, many loyalists of Emperor Stern still existed, all the way up to this day. Like the Trio of Celebi, they also joined together as one group, though their numbers were somewhat depleted. They continued their cruel and ambitious projects underground, away from the prying eyes of the law…thus the birth of Team Rocket. A living remnant of their Empire's dying glory, as well as a pain in every law enforcement's side in the world. They've come on and off over the centuries, performing everything from petty crime to full-fledged terrorism. They've made their name well known—these days, everyone would recognize the phrase "Team Rocket," and if you didn't, you would be branded as a socially inept Dunsparce.

But I've got to stop this lecturing; I sound like a Saffron University Professor, for crying out loud…how incredibly silly of me. That's what I get from watching too much of the History Channel.I glanced outside the kitchen window. Darkness was all around, with shadows on the various lampposts, most of their bulbs burnt out. I checked on my coffee—it was still brewing, frothing black and thick into the clear-glass pot.

I noticed my authoritarian Poké gear was still lying on the kitchen counter. A sudden thought returned to me: contact the IBI, and report the entire Laboratory incident before it is too late. _Team Rocket could be behind this, for all we know. The world could be at stake… _I checked the clock—it was almost three in the morning. A part of me commanded to wait until the daylight hours, to avoid calling at such an absurd time, yet another part of me urged that now was the time, and this report could not wait another hour, or minute. I sighed, finally deciding I just might as well do this now and get it over with.

I picked up my Poké gear, flipping over its screen and activating the power. Now let's see...ah, selection-number nine: _For Confidential Use Only. _I couldn't suppress a quiet smile—confidential use indeed, seeing as it was the _actual _telephone link to the IBI central headquarters. For me, it was a big incentive for maintaining an authoritarian status for several years without a single mess-up or unprofessional incident (I won't mention the wrecked motorcycle earlier this evening). Only a handful of officers ever received this link, and not even my sister had this sort of power in the police force. Apparently, Bluefield decided her record wasn't as clean as mine was—that was the Pokémon Center incident, of course.

In the past, almost every cop in the world had access to the communications line of the International Bureau of Investigations, stored underneath selection nine on their Poké gear. But ever since the Celadon Charge Crisis and the onslaught of rampant callers it brought, the IBI enforced every single police department in Kanto, Johto, and everywhere else to limit the number of users to a small and private selection: the Chief and one officer of his or her choosing. Seeing as half the IBI's receptionists were about to cut their ears off, it was for a good reason. Besides, the over-distribution of their communications link resulted in a bit gaping hole in their security, leaving them wide open to an attack from underground organizations such as Team Rocket. For discretion's sake, that whole crisis forced the IBI to relocate several times before it was finally safe to show their faces again. Yeah, there was really no safe haven—what a mess that was.

So, nowadays, only the most trustworthy and cleanest of officers would be able to contact the agency (I being one of them), in order to avoid the troubles they had faced in the past. And jeez, did _they _have times of hell! But alas, that account in itself is a whole different story…

I entered number nine on the Accessories Selection. At once, the screen refreshed itself, changing into a blue background with further instructions on the front: "To confirm the authenticity of the user and the security of the requested agency, please enter your eighteen-digit identification number. Please recheck the accuracy of your number before striking the enter key, or else, for security purposes, this function will be instantly disabled." I carefully tapped each number into the mini-computer, slowly reciting the series over and over in my head. A single error would permanently deny me access to the IBI, so I took my time entering the digital code. As you can clearly see, the Identification Confirmation Security was upgraded a great deal ever since the Celadon Charge Crisis. No chances were being taken this time around.

After locking in the last digit and rechecking the number several times, I pressed the enter key. The screen refreshed once more: "Number Valid—you are Officer Jennifer of 154 Morfic Avenue, Viridian City, Kanto." I frowned slightly at the misprint of my family's name as more text appeared: "Your call will be processed through several undisclosed governmental satellites and sent through several cities before the connection is established. This will prevent you call from being traced and/or intercepted. Your identification and the agency's security are ensured."

I activated the earpiece of the Poké gear as various mechanical sounds whined in the background. I sat on the kitchen counter, somewhat apprehensively awaiting the sound of an IBI receptionist. Growlithe, meanwhile, appeared to be pacing the linoleum floor with a nervous stride, a subtle whimpering from his throat. He seemed to be troubled, deeply bothered by something unseen, as if trying to track down a scent he had just recently lost. Evidently not finding what he was looking for in the kitchen, the Pokémon left the area without ever taking his eyes and nose from the ground, moving on to the den. _That's unusual, _I thought, _Growlithe has never acted this way, never looked this disturbed. I wonder what's bothering him…?_

"This is the International Bureau of Investigations," announced a tinny voice on the other end of the line, "receiving a call sent by Officer Jennifer of Viridian City, Kanto. May you please confirm who is speaking on your line?"

My wondering thoughts instantly disappeared. "This is Officer _Jenny_," I said, making sure to emphasize my name correctly, "who sent this call to the IBI in regards to the particular events that took place earlier this evening."

"Very well," said the voice, badly riddled with static. "Please pardon the reception of the call, as our satellites are undergoing interference due to the increasing amounts of television signals."

"That is fine." I dismissed the makeshift apology. "I just called to tell you—"

"Please state your business with International Bureau of Investigations." The voice plowed on as if I hadn't even spoken. "A brief report will suffice, so that we will make an appropriate dispatch if the situation calls for such."

I paused, taken quite aback by the receptionist's impolite professionalism. "Well," I began, categorizing my thoughts before speaking. "I was calling to place one of our Department's investigations under your authority. It involves the murder of the world-renowned Andrew Thomas Pine—"

"Andrew…Thomas…Pine…" repeated the voice. I could hear the rapid tapping of a keyboard as he spoke. "A geneticist sponsored by the Kanto Federal Government, also a gracious donator of Chansey to all Pokémon Centers, a winner of the Nobel Prize of Science, and a suspect in the Triple C incident…hereby dead?"

"Um…yes," I stated somewhat uncertainly, since the voice was moving along very speedily. "I am also reporting a break-in of the Viridian Genetic Research Facility. There is a potential theft of DNA specimens and—"

"Ooh, a break-in of the Viridian DNA Laboratory? The one that the Kanto Government has provided funds for over the last twenty years? The one holding the most prominent line of genetic research? Broken into, did you say?"

"Yes, and…"

"It is a good thing you called," completed the receptionist, the sound of the keyboard heavy now. "If what you say is true, this will be on every news channel you can think of. Especially since that whole mess we had several years ago with Celadon City, it's good to know that Blue…uh…your Chief has the humility to accept help from higher professionals. Redhill will be pleased."

"That's nice," I replied, wishing I had an easy opportunity to report everything I needed to say without being cut off every few seconds. "Also, I—"

"Missing DNA specimens would probably be linked to our long-standing case…our boss had always called it the 'Experiment.'" The voice raced at a speed that would have put a Rapidash to shame. "Quite a private investigation it is, seeing as only a few people on our agency actually know what it's all about. This'll get a big stir if this leaks out to the press. Ah, whatever. Our boss won't be too fussed about it, seeing as half the material the media reports is fictional gibberish anyway. Now what were you saying?"

I took a deep breath. "I was about to tell you the description of the murderers' getaway vehicles, since I was the only witness of their escape. They were a bunch of helicopters—"

"The connection is breaking up," interrupted the voice, as the digital hissing began overpowering the sound system. "That is all I need to hear. We have the perfect agent for this sort of scenario. Actually, he is the _only _agent we have for this sort of scenario, and he's been a valuable asset to our organization over the last couple of decades—more importantly, he can't be replaced. We will dispatch him to your police department as soon as possible. Please expect a visit from him; you can tell him your entire story. His name is L—"

_Crick._

The voice was cut off abruptly, leaving nothing but meaningless static.

"What?" I asked, raising my voice unnecessarily, even though I knew it was no good. "What's the agent's name? The name…? Hello?" I waited a few moments, and allowed the buzz to continue in my ear. Finally, I grimaced, lowering the earpiece. "Aw, forget it."

I shut off the power on my Poké gear, tossing it back on the kitchen counter. Oh, well. I'll figure it all out soon enough. I mean, a name's not all _that _important, is it? Yawning with a weary strain, I stretched my arms and shoulders left and right, ridding the fatigue from my body. Seeing that my coffee was done, I removed the pot from the appliance, pouring a cupful into a chipped mug.

I opened the refrigerator, and searched for something to munch on. I moved aside the contents of the storage space—a leftover Farfetch'd, a bowl of Shellder-and-Kingler chowder, some Miltank milk, and several jars of preserves dating back who knows when—until I settled upon a bottle of green olives ("Pure, fresh, and organically grown in the Mediterranean Regions!"). Closing the fridge, I took the jar along with my mug of coffee into the den, where the television was.

I set my post-midnight snack on the coffee table. Now, where was the remote…? Ah, there. Over three thousand channels awaited me on the big screen, recently installed into the west wall of the living room. I settled down into the leather sofa, turning on the Pyrite.

I sipped my caffeine-laden drink for a half-hour or so, watching random programs on different networks. Believe it or not, there was a significant lack of entertainment in anything I watched. Not even the documentaries or news channels could keep me interested, though I did see several (different) reports on the break-in of the Viridian Genetic Research Facility. One claimed that Andrew Wine (a serious misspelling his last name) committed suicide by jumping off the research building. Another insisted that the government had personally sent for Pine's assassination. A third decided to say that Pine was poisoned by his long-lost twin brother (I'll tell you now that Pine _didn't _have a brother), jealous of his fame and wanting to steal the glory all for himself. A fourth was perhaps the most amusing of all: apparently, Andrew Pine was eating a crumble-berry cake at his workstation and choked on a berry. Rushing around in panic, he accidentally fell off the roof into the parking lot. I won't even begin describing the holes that report contained, but I'll leave it at this: they had a personal interview with Andrew Pine's corpse, asking stupid questions as if he could respond.

I changed the channel…a replay of the _Tonight Show with Erika Amaryllis_. I paused, my finger over the remote.

"So, are the rumors true, Samuel?" asked Erika. "I've gotten tips from reliable sources saying you're going to be retiring one of these days…"

The white-haired professor smiled. "Well…" he began, "perhaps I will. It isn't a definite decision. But this whole Lunar Theory Controversy may put a dent in my years."

"Like the Saffron Lions did to the Cerulean Waterflowers?" prompted Erika with a wry look.

Apparently, this was a joke regarding to baseball. The audience bellowed in tremendous laughter—I could see at the top of the screen a gigantic sign that read "Laugh."

I grimaced, switching the station. No wonder Erika's ratings were going down.

"It's time to play…" announced a voice, "THE MONEY DEAL! Win fabulous prizes ranging from ONE BILLION PEN to a single half-Pen. With your host, Clint Coleman!" The audience applauded as some good-looking, handsome guy walked on the stage.

I clicked the remote several times, jumping to several different channels.

"Next week, on _Pride and Prejudice…_"

"Pikachu will love you more if you buy our products…CONSUME!"

"_The Ninetales's Curse _has proven to be this year's Best Overall Program on DNT, PLM, DNM, and NBC. Truly it is worthy of an Emmy…"

"And so, the bus was tagged out, but poor Jimmy would never walk again…"

"Othello has killed…Othello will kill again…"

"TURN OFF THAT DAMN CAMERA! NO MORE COVERAGE! GET OUT OF MY FACE, YOU—!"

A familiar voice startled me, causing me to drop the remote and almost my coffee. I stared at an enormous close-up of Chief Bluefield's red complexion. His eyes were practically bulging from their sockets.

"Mr. Bluefield," ventured a brave reporter. "Would you believe it to be wise to contact a more professional agency to investigate the tragic murder of André Pintip—?"

"A HIGHER AUTHORITY WILL BE CONTACTED IF NECESSARY!" shouted the portly Chief. "THIS CASE IS GOING ALONG JUST FINE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH, AND I DON'T NEED TO HAVE CAMERAS SHOVED IN MY FACE DURING THE PROCEEDINGS! WE'RE GOING TO CLOSE THIS CASE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE, AND IF MY WIFE COOPERATES, WE'LL HAVE THE DEATH SENTENCE ON THIS VICIOUS MURDERER WITHIN A WEEK'S TIME! NOW,_ GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!_"

The camera rolled around a bit, and a large door suddenly appeared in front of the screen.

"You heard it here, folks," the reporter said to the camera, her name entitled _Frieda Cunningham_. "Obviously Yosemite Bluefield is disturbed over the tragic death of André Pill…sorry, I mean Alex Pin. His whole reputation rides over the single truth yet to be revealed: Will he apprehend the murderer, or will he look like a complete idiot like he just did no more than ten seconds ago? Only time will tell. I am Frieda Cunningham, of the CNN."

_Looks like Bluefield's taking a beating, _I mused. _He's too proud to contact the IBI…but I already saved him the trouble._ It'll probably be better for him, anyway. Another episode like that and his coronary heart disease could catch up to him. Winifred Bluefield would be devastated…

Picking up the remote, I changed the station once more.

The History Channel showed black-and-white images, drifting across the monitor. "The House of McClancy remains today the longest surviving family line in all of history…"

I paused, somewhat interested.

"They are a family that has wandered on both sides of the law. One generation they are a family of charity and generosity, another they are a proud and indifferent clan. In one generation, they prove to be able politicians, aspiring leadership and unity amongst the community. In another generation, they are cruel and barbarous tyrants possibly linked to Team Rocket and the Celadon Charge Crisis, striking fear into everyone's hearts. Indeed, they are a family of diversity. In fact, it is rumored that they have survived the ages as far back as to the days of the Old Timeline, but historians have not found any reliable records of this being true…"

I found my eyes drooping, despite the excess amounts of caffeine in my system.

"The first McClancy probably adopted the last name for security purposes. He was christened the name Adam Morrison, but by providing valuable information on a murder, he was placed under witness protection and had his name changed to Theodore McClancy. This was probably four to five thousand years ago…"

The pale glow from the television screen was lulling me to sleep.

"But then…the great fire of…it was the most horrible year for the McClancys…Abigail McClancy…Tiffany McClancy…scientists they became…. Now, modern-day Leopold McClancy involved in the Triple C…the McClancys' whereabouts are overall unknown, protection provided by the government…secrecy purposes…the Lunar Theory…and…fifth year… It was the last time…finding the nugget that made them rich…the universal monetary system of Pen…."

"_Lithe! Growl…LITHE!"_

A great howl from Growlithe snapped me into an upright position, rendering me more wide-awake than the coffee had. I looked wildly around—the coffee had spilt on my front—I heard muffled noises, coming from hallway…I was not alone. There was an intruder inside my home.

------------------------------

_Change of Point-of-View—3:41 A.M, Residence of Officer Jenny_

Damn that Growlithe. I should have known better than to casually barge in without intercepting the target's defense. I had to leap into one of the side rooms in order to avoid obtaining serious burns, as the Pokémon had attacked with a Flamethrower technique.

"_Lithe! Growl…LITHE!" _The fire pup barked in a territorial snarl, bounding forward and lodging its canines into my leg. The warm flow of blood began to seep one of my pant legs.

I grunted in condensed pain, shaking the dog back and forth. "Get off, you miserable brute!" I whispered furiously. "_Get off!" _With a wild kick, I heaved the Pokémon into one of the hallway's walls…but the impact in itself didn't completely faze it. In a moment it would come after me again, more enraged than ever. Besides that, at any second the target would come rushing down the hallway, to investigate these battle cries—not exactly the tactical advantage I had hoped for, obviously.

Despite the injury I perceived in my leg, I managed a grim smile. Time to fight fire with fire. I pulled a Poké ball from my front pocket, activating it and releasing my own Growlithe in a flash of light.

"_Growlithe!"_

Now, to incorporate a little strategy Giovanni had taught me. I quickly stepped backwards into the side room—it appeared to be a laundry room—and muttered to my Growlithe to follow. At once the Pokémon obeyed.

"_LITHE!"_

The target's Growlithe sprung for another attack—for a moment, we appeared to be cornered, trapped in the little room…but all part of the plan.

I dropped out of the way…my Growlithe defended in a rush of paws and teeth. I rolled forward as the target's Growlithe flew by me, distracted with my own Pokémon. In half a heartbeat I had slammed the door shut, trapping them both in the laundry room, the sounds of a ferocious battle, snarls, and yelps muffled through the fireproof walls.

I fished from my pocket a little invention of mine—the permanent lock. Actually, not a lock, but more like a hairpin in appearance. I hastily shoved the pin into the doorknob's keyhole and turned until the lock snapped in place. Perfect…no one could open the door now, not even me. It was permanently sealed in place—the only way to get in or out was to smash the door down, which could not be done; the whole house was virtually fireproof. Alas, those two would fight to the death, as it is the nature of a Growlithe…

"Who's there? Show your face!" A female's voice beckoned forth somewhere down the hallway, near the kitchen, main entrance, and the den. I was quite ashamed of my failure to keep this mission clean, the second strike on my record this evening. I grabbed from my belt a throwing dart filled with a potent tranquilizer. I approached the woman down the hallway, taking carefully aim…and then I threw the dart with swift speed, the air whistling as it flew.

Unfortunately for me, the woman was on her guard. She ducked out of the way, and the dart buried itself into a wall, missing the target.

I swore, gritting my teeth. I pulled another needle from my belt, approaching more quickly this time. The officer lept up from her crouching position and began retreating back to the kitchen, where I assumed she would contact company I much preferred not to arrive. I tossed the needle in a true aim…

The dart punctured the female's lower neck. She trotted perhaps another three steps before her legs had completely turned to jelly. She sunk down onto the linoleum and was out in matter of seconds, her eyes glazed and unconscious.

I issued a triumphant grin. My Superior would be pleased. Indeed, I was rather impressed by this woman's bravery; not a single scream or cry for help. That made things much more convenient for me. Finding the first needle, I extracted it from the wall, stowing it away in a safe container in one of my pockets. I listened intently: the howls of the dueling Pokémon were slowly dying away…

Good. Other officers may find the remains of a couple Growlithe suspicious, but if everything works according to plan, that scrap of evidence is of no concern…irrelevant to the plot. I briefly returned upstairs, to retrieve the body carrier I had brought with me. True, it was very risky to sneak in through the lady's bedroom window, but it was the only one I could open without worrying about unbreakable glass—it was the only one unlocked. Wide-open, in fact. If it had been locked, it would have made my task considerably more difficult, with that Growlithe sleeping by the main entrance.

I sighed, carefully transporting the limp woman into the bag, zipping it up all the way. Nothing was easy—if the woman had been in her bedroom when I got through her window, I would have been able to just take her out right then and there, without this unnecessary struggle. Ah, well.

I exited the same way I came—through the bedroom window. As it turned out, it was another convenience for me, since the portal was sheltered near an alley and therefore wouldn't be prone to attention. For my sake, there was no need to worry about being _seen_. Balancing the carrier on my shoulder, I slid down my special-designed operations ladder—tiny, compact, and almost invisible—and folding it up with my left hand, my right hand bearing the weight.

That being done, I carried the woman to the limousine. I purposely parked it in an alleyway a couple of blocks down the street, as to avoid suspicion. I avoided lights of any sort, including the lampposts, and stayed to the side streets and untraveled lanes. Soon reaching the vehicle, I opened the backseat door, piling the luggage into the extra passenger space. I shut the door, with an air of smile—content, mind you. Content of a job well done.

I slipped into the driver's seat, placing a bottle of champagne into the chiller, something for my enjoyment when I got back to the base. I inhaled in a happy breath, starting up the silent engine and backing up onto Morfic Avenue. Those instructions on Giovanni's note: _154 Morfic Avenue, Viridian…Witness abduction._ Despite the slight difficulties I faced, this was a relatively easy task. The evening hunt was over, and I alone was the victor.

Part one of Phase Two was hereby complete. Most excellent.

* * *

And that's where we leave off! Again, if you wish, please submit a review and/or message, including any suggestions or ideas you might have. Thanks. 

- A.G.M. Mendelssohn


End file.
